


The Worst Timing

by thatmountainhermit



Category: Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I love my son but I love hurting him too, Panic Attack, anxiety attack, self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmountainhermit/pseuds/thatmountainhermit
Summary: Prompt: "How about the first time the sides see anxiety have an anxiety attack, because he usually hides in his room when he has one, but this time he couldn't escape the situation."





	The Worst Timing

He could feel it. Lurking, waiting, getting ready to pounce even as he fought it. That dreaded feeling of something is wrong everything is wrong _you are wrong_. 

It really didn't help that Thomas pulled him into a video.

“Why am I here?” Anxiety deadpanned when he saw Thomas smiling, hand outstretched as it usually was when one of the personas were summoned. He needed to go. He didn't want to see Thomas hit with his panic attack, he didn't want to see the betrayal in his eyes _again_. “I was busy.”

Logan shot him a strange look. “With what, touching up your makeup again?” He questioned. And there was _something_ about his tone, something mocking and mean, Anxiety was sure of it, and he resisted the urge to flinch. Training his eyes to the ground, he frowned when he found that he couldn't sink out and hey didn't that screw him around even more. The panic was filling him, and he desperately fought to keep it away from Thomas.

“Never mind that, you're here now. Though goodness knows why Thomas would want you here.” Anxiety knew for a fact that was purposely mean, and his shoulders went tighter. He felt like throwing up, his grip on the hem of his hoodie was going white and he felt like he was starting to float, no, not here, not in front of them _nonono-_

“Thomas? Son, what’s wro- Anxiety?” He couldn't help it, he had tried but he was choking. He flopped down on the stairs, vision a little fuzzy as he took over Thomas and forced him to sit on the nearest chair, because boy, today they were both in for a treat. 

“What the- Logan, what's going on?” Anxiety gripped his hair with shaking limbs, tugging harshly at his hair, trying to keep himself in the present. But he was slipping, and everything felt duller. 

“It appears they are having a panic attack.” Choking, choking, it was _choking_ him and he couldn't breathe, he was going to die, and he would deserve it. Because Thomas was in a state too, and it was all his fault, he deserved to die.

Smudges of blue, of grey. “Anxiety, son, hey, listen to me, it's okay.” A calm, soft voice.

“It's okay? Morality, he's hurting Thomas!” Anxiety screwed his eyes shut, his chest tight and his head shouting, screaming at him. 

“Anxiety. Hey. Hey, it's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, kiddo. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. Just concentrate on what I'm saying. Are you listening to me? Just nod, okay?” Anxiety kept his eyes screwed shut, but nodded. “Okay, son. Logan is going to keep counting to four, and you're going to breathe in, and then breathe out, okay? Logan’s going to look after you for a while.”

Logan sat down, a fair distance from Anxiety, and started counting slowly, one to four, four to one, rinse and repeat. There was a steady beat to it, something when Anxiety supposed came from reciting poetry. “One, two, three, four. Four, three, two, one.” It cut through his thoughts, and slowly but surely, Anxiety felt the choking feeling ease, opening his eyes to see Morality, looking concerned. Logan was still next to him, watching him closely as he counted, and Roman was cuddling Thomas. 

“Let's take you back to your room, kiddo.” Morality murmured, and Anxiety gratefully took his hand.


End file.
